


Memento Mori

by daggerisms



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daggerisms/pseuds/daggerisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forced into a second life, a newborn Revenant must learn to survive and control himself in a harsh world brimming with blood, suspicion, and uncertainty—all under the watchful (and condescending) eye of his powerful sire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

On the night of his death, Jaejoong glimpsed an angel.

Lying broken on the pavement, covered in his own blood, he knew he did not deserve such a sight. He hadn’t led the best life or made the greatest choices. He was not headed for a life among clouds and other angels. He knew he was destined to burn.

Burn…burning…his arm burned. Why did it burn?

It felt agonizing. Jaejoong tried to cry out to the angel, but all that came out of his throat was a sick gurgle. Shouldn’t he be going numb? He thought death was about losing all the senses, heart slowing, vision leaving slowly; one deep breath, and a soul belonged to the everafter (or whatever awaited one after death).

He could see his wrist. His vision must have been failing, for he thought he saw a small burst of light right around his wrist, above the tattoo of the _nyansapo_.  It burned, too. He felt as if he were on fire.

Blood trickled out the corner of his mouth, and the pain ceased. Dark shadows crept into his vision.  As he lay there, Jaejoong eventually found that he could move his neck. Just a few inches, but it was enough. Breaths coming out ragged, he lifted his head, his lips moving but no words coming from him.

_Cry for help. Call out. You want to live, don’t you?_

A ringing sounded in his ears, and his head dropped back to the hard concrete. Above him, the angel blinked in and out—it was nothing but a neon sign against a starless sky. A goddamn neon sign would be one of the last things he laid eyes on

 He would die in an alley, far from home, and rot there for days until some poor homeless man wandered upon him.

And damn whoever said things would fade to the blinding whiteness of death. He still had his senses. He smelled tar and sewage. The buildings stretched to heights that made him dizzy, even in his last moments. He could still feel the gaping hole in his chest from where the bullet tore through him.

Cats screeched and toppled trash cans, the metal lids crashing and clanging to the ground. A car honked its horn four times. Beethoven’s 9th symphony rose and fell from an open window. Jaejoong briefly wondered who would tell his parents about him, and then he died.


	2. 001

Hunger woke him. Or rather, something like hunger woke him.

Was he in Hell? If so, then he had little to fear. Hell just looked like a plain, metal bunker furnished with only the necessities. A bed, a nightstand, a lamp, and a desk. No decorations. No indication that it had been lived in. The light from the lamp was much too bright, and offered no warmth. Jaejoong cringed away from it, forming into a ball with his back to the light. 

He should be dead. Logic dictated it. A damn bullet took him down. What was he doing still alive? His heart still thumped away in his chest. He could see his own breath fogging in front of his face. Why was he not cold, then?

Blindly, he felt around for the light switch and shut it off, immediately preferring the darkness. He tested his arms and his fingers, happy to discover they all moved. When he lifted his right arm, his eyes followed the movement and came to rest on his ribs. Dried blood stained his shirt, little droplets spattered here and there along his chest.

Then he remembered: a bullet, shot from the shadows. Missed his internal organs, but dealt enough damage that he bled out over the pavement. That was how he died. Or how he almost died. Which was it? He felt no pain, so he could be dead, but he did not believe in an afterlife of any kind, though Heaven and Hell lingered in the back of his mind from time to time. So which reality was he in now?

“Jaejoong.” He spoke and nearly jumped at hearing his own voice. It was the same, yet it sounded so clear. He licked his lips and tried again. “Kim Jaejoong. I am Kim Jaejoong.” Yes, he was. “Alive. I’m alive. I can breathe. I can speak.” Now he sounded ridiculous. _Hungry_. It shot through him again, sharp and quick. His throat burned so much. _Water first. Get water and once I figure out…where I am, then…_

What was the trick parents taught their children? _Pinch yourself and you’ll wake up._ This could not be a dream, but he had to try; what did he have to lose? He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers into his arm.

That was when the first alarm bells went off in his mind.

He could feel his fingers touch skin, but he knew he put some strength behind the action. He felt nothing. His eyes shot open, and he saw blood. He had dug his nails into his arm so hard, they broke through the skin. Too much blood. He couldn’t have hurt himself like that and not felt a thing. Therefore, he was truly dead. The thought did not stop him from vaulting off the bed and throwing open the metal door. The resulting banging crash did not deter him as he ran into the large open space.

_Warehouse_. It registered to him a little late.

“Gotta wrap it, gotta wrap it,” he muttered to himself, sounding hysterical. Boxes and crates towered above his head; the room had to be at least five or six stories tall. He checked boxes. All tools and hardware. Gardening. Home improvement.  Lawnmowers. Industrial. He spied some marked as Fragile and others marked as Hazardous. Nothing that might offer a form of first aid. “What do I do? What do I do?”

Groaning out of frustration, he glanced down at his arm, wanting to laugh that he was worried about an injury while dead. Shock flooded his senses, for it had faded into four crescent-shaped puckered scars that looked weeks old. Not a trick of the eyes, but of the mind. He had gone crazy. He was dead and now he was insane. Wildly, he tore at his arm, trying to recreate the wounds. Instead, he peeled away skin, and blood flowed once again, this time in long strips. It dripped down his arm, but he stared at it hard. Maybe if he caught it happening in action…

“Are you finished?” a quiet voice murmured above him.

Jaejoong staggered back, heading jerking up as a snarl erupted from his chest. An actual _snarl_ , like one from a wolf or a starving mutt. He wanted to demand who (or what) had spoken, but he could not stop snarling and growling.

“I never thought I would come across a being so masochistic that he will actually tear into his flesh to simply see what would happen. Bleeding for self-observation. I suppose there is a first time for everything.”

Something primal rose within Jaejoong, and he grew louder. He wanted to…to…what was the word…?

“Silence yourself at once. Those noises are quite embarrassing, and you are no rabid dog being threatened by a man with a gun.” On a large metal box stacked upon several others, he could make out a silhouette, but that basic rage inside him kept him from assessing the situation. He wanted to—

Kill. He wanted to _kill_. That was the word.

As he prepared himself to launch upwards, the silhouette moved. In one fluid motion, a tall, lean man dropped to the floor without a sound, hands behind his back. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” he calmly warned just as Jaejoong shifted his weight to his feet again. “The moment you leap into the air, I will have you back on the ground, and I will not be half as pleasant as I am right now. Control yourself. This could be quite a boon for both of us. I suggest you not ruin it with a horrible first impression.” He spoke airily, as if someone snarling at him was an everyday occurrence.

However, that did not stop Jaejoong from testing his self-control. He spoke up. “Quite a boon?”

“Yes, that is what I said. Are you partially deaf? I do know sign language, if that would help.”

His hands curled inward, and somehow he knew he had drawn blood again. The unknown man’s eyes flickered down to stare at his fists—in _amusement_ —before he locked gazes with Jaejoong again. “Where am I?” he finally asked, having thought of nothing else to say.

The stranger’s expression remained impassive as he replied, “A warehouse. I’d have thought it obvious from one look around…”

“Cut the sarcastic shit. Where am I? I know I’m in a goddamn warehouse,” he added testily. “I mean am I alive or am I dead? Is this Hell or Purgatory or what?”

One corner of the man’s mouth twitched up, forming a half smile. He held open his arms in a mocking shrug. “If I answer with, ‘None of the above,’ would you believe me? I doubt it.” He sighed. “What an unfortunate situation. If I had known you would be this stubborn and difficult in your second life, I’d have never wasted my time changing you. Why bother with such an obtuse, mindless thing?”

Never in his life had Jaejoong wanted to punch someone until they lay unconscious. “Give me a straight answer, wise guy, before I knock you across the fucking room. Where am I?” The words rang out, bouncing off the walls in a loud resonant echo. He briefly wondered if anyone else could hear them.

“Mmm…” The man ran his thumb over his bottom lip as he studied Jaejoong. “I do not take very kindly to threats. Apologize, and I’ll reconsider.”

“Okay. All right, you know what?” Jaejoong lifted a finger and stabbed it through the air, pointing to the stranger. “Fuck you, fuck your answers, fuck this. I’m out of here.” If he stayed any longer, the urge to kill would rise again, and he wasn’t certain he could (or would) control it. He uncurled his other hand and found dried blood, but no marks. The insanity resumed. Maybe if he flung himself off a building, he would actually die, or wake up in a grave somewhere. Did his parents know? Had someone found his body? If someone saw him on the streets, would they scream in terror?

“And where exactly are you going?” the man called after him, sounding amused.

At that moment, Jaejoong realized he had crossed the warehouse floor in just over three seconds. The space was too vast for such a short time, and yet he had walked, not ran. Something poked at him in the back of his mind, but he shoved it away. “Anywhere but here,” he responded over his shoulder, throwing up another finger in an unmistakable gesture.

He expected the sarcastic man to follow him, taunting the entire way—but when he turned in front of an emergency exit, there was no sign of the man.

* * *

 

The world appeared to be unchanged. Cars still chugged along the streets, horns and sirens blaring in the distance. It still smelled like a big city, too. The horrendous stench that was sewage filled his nostrils, and he wanted to block it out. Scratch the unchanged bit; everything smelled much grosser than before. Downtown at night looked brighter, more luminescent. How had he never noticed how beautiful it was before? Some of the lights hurt his eyes, and he was forced to look away, but everything else glowed.

_Hungry._

A church bell droned nearby. He counted the rings: one…two…three…four…all the way to eleven. Eleven at night. He left his favorite restaurant that night thirty minutes before nine. His mind started to reel again. Was he dead? Was he alive? Was this a dream he had before everything went white or dark? What would happen to him if he killed himself in this reality? Would he just die again? Would he get back up?

_Something smells so good._

And the nerve of the man back in the warehouse, playing games with him as if he were some child! He might as well have spoken to Jaejoong in a sing song voice and danced around. “Cryptic fucker,” he cursed under his breath as he paced down the sidewalk. “Second chance, second life…completely full of shit.” Now that he thought back to the stranger, he recalled more details—long ash-brown hair, tied together at his neck with wayward strands escaping to the front; day-old stubble along a pointed jawline—

_Delicious, even…what is that?_

“Never mind him, Jaejoong. Figure out where you are.”

_Sweet and mouthwatering…I could just…_

Not many people were out this late, and the few he noticed were behind store windows, closing up for the night. The warehouse district had quite a few shops, though nothing that would suit a high-dollar shopper’s tastes.

_Taste it, let it flood my mouth, let it seep down my throat…_

He noticed a girl locking up her small ramen cart for the night. The food stand folk were hardly out this late, so she must have had a decent amount of business. Pretty features, small stature, black hair that hung down her back. She had a cute pink and white scarf wrapped around her neck, a book bag over her shoulder.

Before she could take a step further, he had her pinned to the ground. He secured his hand over her mouth as she struggled to fight him, her cries for help and for him to stop quieted. He was strong. How did he get this strength? The questions bugged him again. What had happened after he died? Was he even still dead? Frustrated at the lack of answers, and still agitated from the encounter with the unknown man, he growled at her. “Shut up, just shut up.” The minute he opened his mouth to speak, he tasted it on the air—the great flavor he would never forget—and then he knew the girl beneath him would die. Somehow, someway, she would never breathe again, and it would be his doing.

The scent had come from her. That overpowering, wonderful aroma was in her hair, in her clothes, all over. No. Not in her clothes. Beneath them. In her very skin.

Blood, blood, blood, blood. The word sang with delight in his mind. If it could dance, it would have. He caught the scent of her blood, and he would have it. He would take it by force, if necessary. Never in his life had he imagined anything would smell so damn good. He opened his mouth to take a deeper breath, so he could inhale the scent and taste completely, and she fought harder, her screams high and piercing, yet still muffled. He had her pinned with his own weight. She couldn’t break free. She would die at his hands, and she knew it. Her eyes widened in terror, and she shook so violently, he thought she might get sick on his hand. “Shhh…it’s okay…shhh…” Hoping his murmured words soothed her (they didn’t) and that she stopped screaming (she kept on), he bent over her body, eyes glued to her neck. Instinct kicked in. _Find the artery. Find a jugular vein. You know where it is. You can sense it throbbing with life. There!_

His teeth pierced her skin, and she finally went still. Her shrieking died down, replaced by a low moan. Was she dying already? Too soon. It tasted so good. Blood was so, so good. Rejuvenating. Satisfying. Her lifeforce would feed him until he burst. He drank harder, desperate for more, and her moans changed. Ecstasy and longing were now laced in them, and he felt her hand start to move across his body, almost as if she were eager for him to drain her…

“How rude.” A firm hand gripped the back of his head and jerked him back mercilessly. For one split second of horror, Jaejoong waited for his neck to snap and the darkness to return, but instead he felt himself flying through the air. A sturdy wall greeted his back, and he heard the brick crumble around him. He snapped back up, snarling—only to see the stranger from earlier haul the girl to her feet. She swayed unsteadily, her eyes glazed over. The man firmly grasped her chin and inspected her face before glancing down at the teeth marks on her neck. “Interesting. Clean bite. You’re a natural at it, I’ll give you that. Go home,” he said to the girl, using a much gentler tone.

“What…who…” She blinked, shaking her head. “What happened…?”

“Damn birds.” The stranger flashed her a charming smile, and she stared at him uncertainly. “You never know when they might swoop down and claw at poor little girls trying to get home.” He continued to smile at her, and her eyes slid from his face to Jaejoong’s and back. He stood rigidly, tense as her scent flooded him again. Finally, she began to back away, her eyes never leaving the two of them. Once she hit the main road, she spun and ran—and he could hear her. He heard her panicked breaths as she sped down the street.

Barely a second passed before Jaejoong whirled around to face the stranger, who now leaned against an overturned metal bin, examining his fingernails with a bored expression. “You got some fucking explaining to do.”

“And you’ll get no explanation with that sort of tone.” That devious grin…Jaejoong wanted to peel it off his face. “Ask again, this time with more courtesy to your words, and I might hand over a response or two.”

The questions poured out of him in a torrent. “What the fuck am I? What the fuck did I just do? What the fuck did _you_ just do? How did you jump off all those crates? Did I seriously bite a girl? And why did I want her blood? Am I even alive? Are you a fucking hallucination? What _am_ I?”

“Hmm…” Still looking amused, the stranger tapped his chin thoughtfully, a gleam now in his eyes. “I will elaborate on the answer shortly. To answer the others…” He held up a finger for each example. “You just bit a girl, I kept you from being declared a psychopath, I have legs and I used them to jump, yes you did bite her as I said previously…and no, I assure you I am _very_ real.” He crooked one finger. “Follow me, Jaejoong. If we discuss this, I would rather do it inside, away from eavesdroppers.”

“You—you know my name?”

“Of course I know your name. I did turn you, after all.”

He sputtered, “Turn me? Okay, look here—”

“Details, details. If you expect me to answer your questions, keep up.” Jaejoong gave a start; the man was already halfway down the street, talking to the air. Jaejoong jogged around the corner, irritated. He looked incredibly nonchalant about it, with his hands in his coat pockets and his legs striding purposefully out in front of him. “We have much to cover and so little time before I must let you feed again.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Well?”

“What now?” He couldn’t keep his exasperation hidden, try as he might.

“Oh, come now. Where’s the one question everyone feels the need to ask before they embark on a wondrous adventure with a stranger?” The sarcasm dripped steadily from his words.

Jaejoong stared. Then: “Who are you?”

“Yunho. That is what you may call me.” For a brief instant, he stopped, turning to face Jaejoong. Yunho executed a bow that would put a lord’s to shame. He straightened, and the wind whipped his clothing, strands of his long hair escaping to brush his face. “I would say I am at your service, but that would be a very black lie, as I serve no master, and one would be a fool to think you a master. Now quick dragging your feet and hurry. The night is our ally, but humans…” He clicked his tongue and went back to walking. “Shall we say they have no sense of etiquette when it comes to leaving others to their business?”

“…you’re pretty fucking weird, you know that?”

“And I plan to mold you into a good likeness of me, so you may want to reconsider that opinion,” his new acquaintance replied back, the laughter in his voice unmistakable.


End file.
